


Princess Jasnah and Ward Shallan Cum to the Wrong Alley

by gqsa



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Abuse, Ahegao, Alley Blow Jobs, Alley Sex, Angst, Assassin - Freeform, Assassination, Biting, Bleeding, Blow Job, Boobjob, Breast Fucking, Breast Torture, Bukkake, Crying, Cunt busting, Deepthroat, Degradation, Doggy Style, Double Penetration, Eye Licking, F/F, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Sitting, Facial, Feet, Female Domination, Femdom, Fingering, First Time, Fisting, Foot Fetish, Forced Sex, Gangbang, Genital Torture, Grooming, Humiliation, Incest, Kink, Lesbian Sex, Limes and lemons, Loss of Virginity, Lust, Masochist, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Mindfuck, Naive, Nipple Play, Objectification, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Orgy, Pee, Philosophy, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Precum, Princess - Freeform, Radiant - Freeform, Rape, Rapist - Freeform, Regret, Revenge Sex, Ripped flesh, Rough Sex, Sadism, Safehand, Safehand Kink (Stormlight Archive), Sandwich, Scissoring, Self-Harm, Sex, Sexual Content, Soulcasting, Squirt - Freeform, Stomping, Stroking, Taboo, Torture, Urination, Violent Sex, Virginity Kink, Word Porn, alethi, alethka, blowjob, bones - Freeform, break - Freeform, cornered, cum dump, cut, dark smut, defiled, did, footpad, fuck face, fuckface, gagging, gender based violence, handjob, jizz, knight radiant, lighteye, load, lost innocense, mentor, nubile, pissing, redhead, ribs, sharing is caring, spren - Freeform, swallow, teacher student, thugs - Freeform, toes, veden, virgin, vorin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:35:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26939728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gqsa/pseuds/gqsa
Summary: Of all times for Jasnah to start being wrong, she chose that one Khabranth alley way. Philosophy in action, or so she thought, until she finds that her Stormlight has mysteriously been depleted.Hey guys! It's finally done! CHAPTER 2 AS WELL! Enjoy!
Relationships: Shallan Davah/Wikim Davar, Shallan Davar/Balat Davar, Shallan Davar/Jasnah Kholin, Shallan Davar/Jushu Davar, shallan davar/jasnah kholin/rapists
Comments: 39
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

Jasnah pulled back her glove, using the light beneath to reveal the street around her. The gemstones on her hand—larger than broams—blazed like torches, red, white, and grey.

“Is it wise to be showing your wealth like that, Brightness?” Shallan said, speaking very softly and glancing about her.

“No,” Jasnah said. “It is most certainly not. Particularly not here. You see, this street has gained a particular reputation lately. On three separate occasions during the last two months, theatergoers who chose this route to the main road were accosted by footpads. In each case, the people were murdered.”

Shallan felt herself grow pale.

“The city watch,” Jasnah said, “has done nothing. Wait here.” Jasnah halted Shallan with a raised palm, covered her spheres in a pouch, and slipped into the doorway of a dark building.

She had told Shallan to leave her spheres in the palace, so her leaving plunged the roadway back into darkness. Shallan blinked, her eyes adjusting. She swallowed, holding in a scream forming at the back of her throat. She scanned around her, searching for dangers that must be there.

It was too dark to see. She had to press her legs together to hold her bladder closed. This can’t be happening.

***

Jasnah had not intended to frighten the girl. That was just a side effect to this particular exercise. No matter. She’d arranged with the thugs of this area, so Shallan was safe.

“Thank you very much,” a voice said in the dark.

Jasnah forced down a spike of fear. Foolish human response, considering this had been arranged. She left the spheres on the ground and stepped back. “I trust that will be sufficient to see you off these streets and out of Khabranth by tomorrow.”

“Yes of course, Princess,” said another voice. “I hope your lesson goes very well.”

Jasnah’s skin prickled. There was no need to fear, though. They were only going to intimidate Shallan, after which Jasnah would give them a Stormlight-enhanced beating. She’d given all her spheres away, but she still had the Stormlight from the gems in the Soulcaster. It wasn’t much but it was plenty for this task. Jasnah exited the building.

The thugs chuckled behind her.

***

“How foolish,” Jasnah said as she approached Shallan, “would you say it is for us to come here, two undefended women wearing costly clothing and bearing riches?”

“Very foolish.” Shallan had to hold herself back from clutching the older woman. “Jasnah, can we go? Please. Whatever lesson you have in mind isn’t worth this.”

Jasnah drew her lips into a line, then looked toward a narrow, somehow darker, alleyway off the road they were on.

“You’re at an interesting place in your life, Shallan,” Jasnah said, flexing her hand. “You are old enough to wonder, to ask, to reject what is presented to you simply because it was presented to you. But you also cling to the idealism of youth. You feel there must be some single, all-defining Truth—and you think that once you find it, all that once confused you will suddenly make sense.”

“I…” Shallan wanted to argue, but Jasnah’s words were tellingly accurate. The terrible things Shallan had done, the terrible thing she had planned to do, haunted her. Was it possible to do something horrible in the name of accomplishing something wonderful?

Jasnah walked into the narrow alleyway.

“Jasnah!” Shallan said. “What are you doing?”

“This is philosophy in action, child,” Jasnah said. “Come with me.”

Shallan hesitated at the mouth of the alleyway, her heart thumping, her thoughts muddled. The wind blew and bells rang, like frozen raindrops shattering against the stones. In a moment of decision, she rushed after Jasnah, preferring company, even in the dark, to being alone. The shrouded glimmer of the Soulcaster was barely enough to light their way, and Shallan followed in Jasnah’s shadow.

Noises echoed from behind.

Shallan turned with a start to see several dark forms crowding into the alley. “Oh, Stormfather,” she whispered. Why? Why was Jasnah doing this?

Shaking, Shallan grabbed at Jasnah’s dress with her freehand. She slipped off the woman’s tight silk havah and had to hold her waist. Other shadows were moving in front of them, from the far side of the alley. They grew closer, grunting, splashing through foul, stagnant puddles. Chill water had already soaked Shallan’s slippers, freezing her toes.

Jasnah stopped moving. The frail light of her cloaked Soulcaster reflected off metal in the hands of their stalkers. Knives.

These men meant murder. You didn’t rob women like Shallan and Jasnah, women with powerful connections, then leave them alive as witnesses. Men like these were not the gentlemen bandits of romantic stories. They lived each day knowing that if they were caught, they would be hanged.

Paralyzed by fear, Shallan couldn’t even scream. All she could do was breathe heavily, on the verge of hyperventilating.

Stormfather, Stormfather, Stormfather!

“And now,” Jasnah said, voice hard and grim, “the lesson.” She whipped off her glove.

Shallan expected sudden light from the soulcaster to be blinding. But, as Shallan raised a hand and stumbled back against the alley wall, there was no light. Jasnah, only lit by faint moonlight, looked at her hand shocked. Why did that invigorate Shallan so? Why did it make her feel like moving, acting? She felt like she could run a thousand miles. But, as a faint glimmer around her illuminated four men surrounding them, she froze on the spot. Fearspren emerged from around her and Jasnah, globs of violet goo wriggling in the air. Shallan could see the knives now, and she could also see the murder in their eyes.

Her scream finally broke free.

The men shoved their way forward. A thick-chested man with a dark beard came up to Jasnah, weapon raised. She reached her hand out and inhaled sharply as if trying to smell the man, but nothing happened. Cursing, Jasnah backed up towards Shallan, whose breath caught in her throat. Jasnah had no plan. Deep down, Shallan had thought Jasnah must have had some miracle lined up. It was Jasnah.

But no. The man punched Jasnah in the gut and she doubled over, coughing as he ripped open the buttons holding the bust of her tight havah together. As Jasnah’s tan-nippled breasts burst out and hung bare, Shallan crossed her arms over her own chest. But two came at her. One yanked her arms apart and held them painfully behind her back, and the other ripped open her havah.

There was no bursting out or even hanging with Shallan’s breasts. They were so small that everything just stayed in place. Shamespren rained over her, white and red petals in the wind. Chest exposed to chill night air, her small, pink nipples hardened, constricting painfully. It felt like… like she’d let Balat take out his frustration on her again.

No! Shallan thought. Don’t go back there.

But she already had. And somehow, home felt like a better place to be. With that admittance, she heard a voice at the back of her head.

Use me, it said. Only ten heartbeats.

Never again!

As a man’s teeth came down onto her nipple, as Jasnah’s struggles echoed behind her, Shallan’s vision began to blur.

***

Three years ago.

Shallan’s step mother screamed in the adjacent room. Father yelled as he beat her. And Shallan swallowed creamy fluids and moved on from Wikim. His juices were always the least flavourful so she preferred to start off with him. His was the sweetest, though.

Jushu came next. Quickly. He was fat and his pubes smelled like he'd done his business in his pants already rather than in her. But that didn't stop him from squirting as he gently grabbed her red head and rocked it up and down in his lap.

Shallan swallowed and moved on. Balat was the hardest to please, but someone had to be the light in the family. So she crawled on her knees to him and held his length in her small hands.

He looked down at her with a wrongness that fit these acts, but she'd seen what her mother could achieve this way. She might only be fourteen, but she was a visual learner. So, she began to stroke her brother.

"Oh Stormfather, Shallan," Balat said. He threw his head back and grabbed hers.

She resisted his pull and kept stroking. Precum leaked from his foreskin, over the head, and down her fingers—yes, her naked safehand, even though she was old enough now that she wore it covered. She let his leakages lace her skin, and then rubbed it fully along Balat's length. See, the boy was as rough with her head as he was with cremlings, so she had to lube him up properly.

While she did, he pulled her body up and took a nipple into his mouth. His tongue felt hot to her icy skin and Shallan gasped, accidently yanking his foreskin all the way down. So far down, it did not come back up on her upstroke. Balat bit down on her hardening point while pinching the other one. Painspren—orange hands groping her privates with overly long fingers—emerged, but she could take the pain. Balat had bitten and made her nipples bleed so many times by now, she’d lost the ability to feel them. A bead of warm blood already trickled down her ribs. Would she ever be able to nurse a baby as a woman?

That didn’t matter now. Not when her Father was tearing them apart. Not when her performance was sufficiently distracting Balat from the tirade in the room next door. The moment she wet his whole shaft, he shoved her head down like a disobedient axehound. Straight down her little throat he went and though this was a regular occurrence now, she still flailed.

"Balat!" the twins yelled.

"Shh!" Shallan shushed through the large tube between her lips. "Father will hear you!"

They settled back at that.

Balat had heard none of it.

Shove! And into her he went. He pulled her head back, penis popping out of her throat. Shove! Pulled out. He stormed her face again and again like a pup humping her skirts, yanking at her hair and making her gag and gargle and wonder how could you do this to your little sister? but she knew he was going easy still. His climax was coming, and when it did, he...

He hit the back of her head. She could throat him, but her face was still too small to admit all of him. Not even with his shoving. So he hammered the back of her head, forcing her down bit by bit, despite her gags and flails and coughs, until her lips and nose were buried in his pubes.

"Right there, Shallan!"

If it was right there, why'd he keep hitting her head? Proper thumps on her crown that would grow tender later. Storms, it was still tender from last night’s distraction session.

Glass shattered next door, and her brothers gasped. Violent as Father was, he never hit Shallan, unlike Balat. But this was no time to feel sorry for herself. She had to take care of her brothers. She waved the other two over. On either side of her, shivering as they were, their cocks hardened in her hands. She pumped them and put her tongue to work, the tip stroking as far back down Balat's length as she could reach, all the way to his testicles. He kept her there, even though she was growing red in the face from suffocation. He liked when she licked his balls. Blessedly, he pulled back from her throat to extend her reach to his tip, then struck, plunging himself back into her. Loosened up for the day, he went all the way in in one hit. Still, he thumped thumped _THUMPED_ her. Shallan worked with her brother's rhythm, licking him to his point of maximum pleasure, guiding him there like the good little sister she was, even as her tongue and throat grew sore and the roots of her hair felt like they'd rip out her throbbing scalp.

He erupted. A little ejaculate splashed the back of her throat, a little in her mouth, but most squirted when he pulled himself out of her and jizzed on her face and hair. Jushu and Wikim, assisting her stroking with their own hands, blasted her from the sides.

The vile seminal fluid hit her skin and dripped to her chin. Her wavy hair held the rest. Balat wiped the tip of his thing on her cheeks for later use, then rolled up his wet foreskin and presented it to her mouth.

The facial was for display, but he did also like to be licked dry. She had to give him what he wanted so that sadistic expression of his would vanish.

She wrapped her fingers around him again. Even with her safehand scandalously involved, her hands couldn’t cover the entire length without long strokes. His foreskin held beads of white in its wrinkled tip, and she stuck her tongue into it. She ignored the taste of urine and wet axehound and licked him inside the grimy-looking skin folds. Her tongue pushed up the foreskin from the inside as she searched for anything with a taste and ate it.

By time there was no taste but Balat left, he'd already rubbed their cum evenly over her face, and stroked it into her hair.

She pulled out of him and fell back onto her bottom. The twins knelt beside her and put pressure on her bleeding nipple, but Balat instructed her to go to her room. She'd have to walk past Father's dining room for that.

"Let him see his perfect display trophy defiled," Balat said.

The others scowled at him, but Shallan took their dicks and cleaned them with her tongue. "Ish okay," she said, looking up to see if they were satisfied, calm. They were. Her jokes had stopped being enough at some point, but this... This would always work. She slurped the last remnants of cum from their soft penises, then rose and went straight out towards the dining room, buttoning her dress closed. The moment she turned away from them, the tears began to pool in her eyes.

She held them back. Held them until she walked past Father and he asked "What's that stuff you're putting on your face, Shallan? If your tutors don't teach you how to tend to your beauty in private, I'll have to have a word with them."

Frightened for their safety, Shallan stopped and reassured him it wasn't their fault. The semen was starting to peel from her face. Father squinted at it, so she rushed and went to her room to cry.

Every night now, she had nightmares of her brothers laughing as they ravaged her face and throat. She couldn't breathe but they wouldn't stop. She'd pass out and wake up and they'd still be using her face, pulling at her hair. Sometimes, Balat even pulled her limb from limb and then fucked her corpse. This house was going to take her and use her until none of Shallan Davar remained.

So, she made herself take pleasure in the pain and began to get herself off to it. Shallan Davar loved this. She was a little whore. Her brothers had their way with her, and then she came and fingered herself to the Memories of it while their semen still plastered her face. At least the little insignificant trophy sister-daughter got to cum, too. And cum she did. Oh storms how it shook her pale thighs and breasts. She was not alive except in those few seconds of ecstasy, so she comforted her brothers multiple times a day and took care of herself immediately every time. Yes, yes, this was a Shallan Davar she could accept as herself

***

Jasnah was made to watch as the poor girl just knelt there, immobile, frozen. It seemed some defence mechanism to deal with a past trauma. She did nothing as the men grabbed her hair and forced their penises into her mouth. One after the other, they stood around her, turning her, making her eat dick after dick.

"Anything you need, Balat, Daddy," Shallan said. "Just don’t fight."

Eyes still dead to the world, Shallan raised her arms and took two cocks into her hands. As she stroked, she began to give head back.

"Yeah girl!" the current man in her face said. Fuckspren danced in the air, little transparent dicks that slipped into any hole they could find. One lodged itself up Shallan’s nose. The man gripped her red waves in tight fists and pulled her in without mercy.

She gagged over and over, but he didn't care, and neither did Shallan. She performed for them, gargling and moaning, looking up to them to gauge their happiness with her work. He clearly wasn’t finishing so she went harder, producing loud GLUKHs, shaking her head side to side. Spit leaked out her mouth and stained her blue havah, even more when the men passed her over to the next and spat on her themselves. They pulled on her nipples, bit them and twisted them, but Shallan didn’t even flinch. It was like she had no feeling in them. That made the men pull harder, making the small breasts look like sharp cones.

“Please let the girl go—”

A man fondling Jasnah’s breasts from behind kicked her in the back. She was kneeling, so the force bent her over. Her face hit the stone and the man pressed his boot into her back, pressing her chest into the ground. He grabbed her arms and pulled them up, lifting her a little, but then pressed down with his boot and shoved her side to side, scraping her breasts on the rough stone.

Jasnah grit her teeth. She would not scream. Even if it felt like her nipples were going to be sanded off, even if her arms felt like they were going to be ripped off. The sadist clutched her safehand even rougher, twisting.

Shallan wasn’t in a much better situation. She held different dicks in her hand now.

"Her safehand is so soft!" The man ripped open Shallan’s sleeve. Pale, long fingers were exposed to the night. Once they delicately wrapped around the man, he exploded into her hair. It caked there. The other men took turns to defile her safehand, letting it drive them to climax. The men who waited for their turn used her mouth furiously, clearly edging.

When they stopped pulling her head themselves, letting her do the work, fearspren bubbled up around Shallan. “I’ll do better, Daddy,” she said sticking her tongue out before continuing, “my mouf ish bether than my han.” She plunged her head forward, and used her tongue liberally as if she’d done this before. GLUKH she gagged. GLUKH GAGKH! GLUKH. They were loud croaking things by now, and her hair was a sticky mess. Semen dripped down onto her eyes, but she kept them open, staring up with eyes that were somehow both blank, but still appeared hopeful as she succeeded in finishing the men. The last man pulled out of her lips—she looked dejected as he did; only the blankness remained in her eyes now—and wrapped her long, pale fingers around his dick. He exploded instantly, and used her to stroke him in rhythm to his squirts, which he pointedly aimed into the girl's eyes.

"Take my cum, Brightness. Lighteyed whore!"

The others laughed and held her eyes wide open. They filled the region between her cheekbones and brows like bowls. She balanced the semen there and let the men rub the slime into her green irises with their penises.

"You're going to damage her cornea," Jasnah said, and earned herself a merciless shove of her oppressor’s weight as he dragged her chest sideways against the stone. She groaned as she felt the rough-edged cobbles cut into her flesh in multiple places, the most painful being the tip of her left nipple. Jasnah’s eyes watered, but she’d not cry.

The other men looked this way. One swept Shallan into his arms and carried her to Jasnah.

"Lick her eyes clean," he said.

Shallan just stared at Jasnah through the pasty fluid clinging to her eyelashes.

The man dropped Shallan onto her back beside Jasnah. Her first oppressor, still holding her arms behind her with his boot in her back, lifted her and shoved her onto the girl, large breasts to small. Jasnah tried to suck in Stormlight from any spheres Shallan might have, but nothing came.

Something hard pressed against the back of Jasnah's head, pushing her face against the moisture on Shallan's. It made the poor girl smell like filthy axehound.

"Don’t bother with that sniffing,” one of her two oppressors said. “They told us not to bring any spheres. Eat." He grinded his boot into the back of her skull. "Clean her 'cornea' "

They? Who had sent these men? Killers, they had to be then. Jasnah had to draw this out until other people strolled by with Light. Which meant she had to obey for now. Shallan was so out of it, it was like Jasnah lay atop an empty shell. She couldn't do this.

A large hand slammed against Jasnah's vagina and piercing pain throbbed between her legs. She lurched forward, but the hand gripped her folds, yanked her back, and squeezed. Squeezed. Squeezed as if trying to grind her clitoris and labia into mince.

Jasnah’s eyes bulged. Storms, this was the single most painful thing she’d ever experienced, more than the wounds that left her chest bleeding.

"Lick!" The man said.

She had to do this, or these men would kill them now. "Sorry, child," Jasnah whispered and began licking Shallan's eyeballs. The semen tasted as it smelled. If you tried to lick a wet axehound after it spent the morning under the Weeping’s rains. Her tongue slipped over the glassy eye, and Shallan barely flinched. Those haunted eyes just took each lick as they came, one after the other.

One oppressor stepped back, removing his foot from her head. But the other still held her arms, shoving her chest into Shallans, causing them both to exhale harshly into the others’ face. Shallan’s breath smelled worse than she tasted, and pubes of different colours were stuck between the girl’s teeth. Poor thing.

Jasnah cleaned her eyelashes as the oppressor pumped their chests.

"She's getting wet from this!" The man mincing her folds said, still squeezing and yanking. Then Folds stopped.

Something pushed against her opening. Breached. Jasnah cried out. Pain within. A tearing. And then burning. Folds didn't care. He pulled back and thrust into her again, beginning a relentless rhythm.

"I’m fucking a princess!" The man roared and smacked her ass, spanking her like a common whore. She could already feel his hand prints flaring up on her skin. “Tight princess pussy!”

Jasnah kept licking through the pain. She couldn't risk them killing her and the child. So she ate all the cum off Shallan's face, even from beneath her eye lids, lifting the skin and sticking her tongue beneath.

When she was done, her oppressor raised Jasnah by her arms and another man stuck his dick into her mouth. The vile organ slipped in as if it belonged there, even without the help of Oppressor kicking her forward. She did not resist, yes, but it was still an interesting observation of anatomy to make—

Storms, she was doing scholarship while being raped. Sometimes she wondered whether there really was something wrong with her. Folds ejaculated.

Inside her.

She was at that time of the month, so would be having one of these commoners’ children. The last man took Folds’ place and penetrated her, while Oppressor switched with the face-stormer to take a turn with her mouth. It gave her shoulders some reprieve. If you considered a reprieve to be one man fondling her breasts, another defiling her safehand, another storming her vagina, and yet another storming her mouth.

“Princess Spitroast,” Oppressor said, earning him a laugh from the man thrusting into her pussy. The first spat in her face and slapped her repeatedly, hard enough to knock her hair out of its bun. The abuse prompted the rear man to spank her again. Oppressor twisted her safehand and fingers as he licked them, and Folds twisted her nipples—even the cut one; his actions dropped a sharp stone out of the cut and blood followed. They called this a spitroast, but slapped and spat and played. Was this how they treated their food?

Folds slapped her breasts from underneath. “Look how they bounce!” he said. “They’re so soft.” He squished them both as if trying to burst open a soft fruit. That did make Jasnah scream, but it was muffled by the length slipping into her throat. All she could do was tear, wishing she didn’t have enough flesh to grab. She remembered her mother then, taking her to fit her first bra. How would Navani Kholin react after her arrogant daughter was finally wrong, getting both herself and her ward raped and murdered. If they survived, no one would marry them now.

Folds finally let up on the squeezing and returned to slapping them from underneath one at a time. All the while, Shallan stared up from beneath Jasnah as reproductive fluids, saliva, and blood dripped onto her.

Until Folds left Jasnah’s breasts to hang and dragged Shallan out from under her. Those dead, haunted eyes fell from view, leaving Jasnah fearing for the girl who seemed indifferent to what was about to happen to her.


	2. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jasnah and Shallan learn some lessons, but they're not what the ladies expected

“Please don’t,” Jasnah burbled over the mass in her mouth. “Please leave the girl. She’s just a child—”

Oppressor’s cock slid so far back into her face, it turned her neck to look straight up at her rapist. A grin plastered the man’s face as he pulled back and thrust into her. “No words for you. A princess should serve her people. Suck this cock and maybe we will let the girl go.”

That twisted logic. The fallacies. The gall. Jasnah should bite off his manhood. But what would that earn her? The death of her and her ward? This was already the biggest miscalculation she’d made in her life. Her only option was to hope that more rapists came with Stormlight.

“Don’t worry. You wanted to teach the girl a lesson, didn’t you? We’ll do you a favour and teach her good. A woman isn’t really capable of teaching a young girl her place—how to take cock.”

The nerve of these backwaters brutes.

Shallan was no longer in sight, but Jasnah heard cloths rip. Soon, she heard the squish of penetration. They were raping the girl, too. How many rounds did these men have in them?

Jasnah got an answer she didn't like.

The men finished with her, and dropped her, walking over to Shallan. Jasnah rose to her knees, fists clenching. If she had Stormlight, she’d show them what a woman could do.

“Stick your finger into your pussy,” one man turned back and told Jasnah. “And don’t take it out, or the child dies.”

Angerspren—blood-red pools—bubbled from the already-bloody ground around Jasnah’s knees. She scowled, but reached down and slid her finger in. Familiar though this feeling was, her scowl deepened.

“Oh I love that look, princess,” the man said. He was a true sadist. Sadist continued, “Use that free safehand of yours to fondle yourself. Oh! Circle your finger around that bleeding nipple!”

He grinned as he got under Shallan, sandwiching her between himself and Folds who didn’t bother pulling out of the girl’s vagina. Then they double penetrated her. That little body hardly looked like it could take one man's penis. They still folded her up, feet to the sky, and fucked her like an axehound bitch. So enthusiastic they were, they squashed "er" sounds from her despite her lack of moaning. er Eh EH! she went, feet waggling furiously. Oppressor caught a foot and sloppily licked the soles and toes, his tongue gliding across and between with the dexterity of Shallan with a pencil. Pencils couldn't suck and bite like that, though. Unlike with her nipples, this did make Shallan cry out in pain, kicking and pulling her leg, but that only made the men clutch onto her, punch her in the abdomen until it was blue and purple, and fuck her harder. Eh EH _EH!_ Even her flat chest was jiggling now. The last guy grabbed her naked safehand and mirrored Oppressor's sucking-biting treatment, only more hungrily. Shallan's struggling had served to send them into a frenzy. She struggled no more, limply staring out as they ravaged her. Jasnah could hardly even see Shallan through the crowd of rapists.

She had to do something. Stop this. She was not just this girl’s teacher, but she was also princess of Alethka!

Sadist frowned back at Jasnah, and her safehand shot up to her breast. Blood ran down the underside of the teat and pooled in her navel before mixing with the fluids on her hand down below. Her finger circled the ripped nipple, and she had to bite down to stifle the scream collecting at the back of her raspy throat.

Sadist and Folds watched her flinch, and that set their bodies bucking. They groaned and finished inside the child. Jasnah feared this the most. Because she’d noted days ago that her and the girl’s cycles had synchronised. So Shallan, too, would be having one of these men’s children.

Oppressor turned Shallan around when the other two got up. He made her kneel, then bent her forward, like he had with Jasnah, such that the girl’s face and chest were on the stone and her bum pointed into the air. He took Shallan’s arms and pulled them behind her back, then shoved his boot between her shoulder blades, pressing her chest into the ground.

From all the way over here, Jasnah heard air gush out of Shallan’s chest as her rib cage contracted under the pressure. A strange fetish, Oppressor had. It made Jasnah’s torn nipple flare in more pain as she stroked it. The cut went from the tip of her nipple to the areola, so she did her best not to push and stretch the tip as she circled it. It still blazed with pain.

Oppressor scraped Shallan’s chest on the floor, too, pulling her side to side by her arms and assisting the motion with his boot. He laughed as he did it, and Shallan just stared blankly at Jasnah between the moments when her red hair moved out of the way. Under the increasing purple light of the rising moon, the girl’s pale nakedness shone a beautiful lavender, and Jasnah… found her finger slipping into and out of herself easier. A few drops might have dripped down her thighs.

The men didn’t notice. They watched as Last Man positioned behind the girl’s raised bottom—Oppressor held his boot in place, he just stood on the side—and pushed into Shallan’s ass.

She squeaked, and her blank expression morphed into a painful grimace for just a moment before reverting. All the while, her eyes remained on Jasnah. Did she think Jasnah was masturbating and fondling herself to the sight of her sodomization?

Jasnah would like to say she wasn’t, but with the wetness between her thighs increasing, she could not deny it. Something was rising up within her, deep in her core. It rose as Last Man grabbed Shallan by her love handles and thrust into her ass; rose and rose as he sped to his climax and burst, dropping his load onto the freckled skin on the small of Shallan’s back; rose and rose and rose as Oppressor shoved Shallan’s chest down and draaaged it sideways, turned her over and mounted her, then pressed her little bleeding breasts together and fucked them, fucked and fucked and fucked until his load shot Shallan’s eyes, eyes that watched Jasnah’s toes curl, safehand become incapable of coordinated movement, and fingers get stuck in a contracting pussy.

Something was coming. It rushed through her body with more fire than Stormlight ever could. It numbed her mind and collapsed her on the spot, making her curl into herself, shaking with the pleasure of it. And then it burst forth from between her legs, a gush of the building ecstasy in physical form.

“She actually came by herself over there,” she heard through her mental fog. Fuckspren emerged around her and their little transparent dicks had their way with her. Looking beyond them, she could vaguely see through the side of her eye, Sadist—standing over Shallan with his legs set wide—stroke his half-flaccid dick, point it at Shallan, and then urinate.

“Stop,” Jasnah tried to say, but she couldn’t, not while the tremors wracked her body.

Shallan just looked this way as pee struck her eyes and covered her face. She didn’t flinch. As the urine flattened her red hair against her face, she just stared at Jasnah, absently opened her mouth, and started drinking.

“We have to keep this girl!” Sadist said. “Have you seen such a good little toilet? Let’s just take care of the princess, and take the red head back to base. No one will ever know.”

Oppressor considered.

“Your name is Brightness Darkeye’s Toilet,” Sadist told Shallan. “What’s your name?”

She looked up at him through his golden stream. “Darkeye’s Toilet.”

Oppressor, still considering, took his dick back out, placed a boot across her chest and aimed straight down. “We can’t hear you. Give us your name and title.”

“My name is Brightness Darkeye’s Toilet”—a powerful yellow jet struck her face—“, sir!”

The other two men joined in and they all covered Shallan in piss. Oppressor had the longest trickle. Before he finished, he stepped around and whizzed on her safehand, then grabbed her soaked hair and yanked her to a sitting position. From there, he shot into her eyes—which she somehow still kept open and had retrained on Jasnah. Still going, he pushed his penis between her glossy lips and peed straight into her throat. He squeezed her neck as it bobbed over and over, Shallan trying to swallow fast enough to stop his urine from flowing down her chin and onto her breasts.

Those cuts on her chest were going to get infected if not dealt with soon. But Jasnah still couldn’t move, not while the sight kept her fingers stroking within, setting off what must be the sixth or seventh orgasm. Her clit had tightened so much, it hurt. Her nipples hardened so much, it reinvigorated the blood flow from the rent in her skin. And obediently, her other hand still fondled that breast and her finger dug at the cut. There was a pleasure to that pain.

“Sounds good,” Oppressor’s said, pulling out of Shallan’s mouth with a pop, slapping her wet cheek, and letting go of her hair. She fell back, flaccid as his cock.

Jasnah came again. This time, her toes curled so hard, her feet began to cramp. She folded over herself and squirted again, covering herself in piss.

“I have half a mind to keep this one, too,” Oppressor said. Footsteps grew closer and closer to Jasnah. The sound of a blade being pulled from leather echoed above her as a boot pressed into the small of her waist. But footsteps didn’t just come from the rapists’ direction. It came from the other side of the alley, too.

“What do you guys want?” Oppressor’s voice again.

“Just some of the action.” Jasnah had not heard this voice before. The new man knelt beside her and rolled her onto her back, watching her pant. “She’s beautiful,” he said. “Alethi, too. Come on, you have to let us have a go. How many have we shared with you lot?”

“This is a special job,” Oppressor said. “Next time for sure—”

“Don’t look so special to me. Prettier girls than normal, sure,” he looked from Shallan to Jasnah, “but they’re just more lighteyed whores who need a good cock.”

Oppressor smirked at her as if to say, you hear that, Princess?

She did hear, but to her surprise, she felt less anger than she’d expected. Something else rose up instead, something hard to put into rational words. Likely because there was no rational way to explain the anticipationspren she’d attracted—translucent red streamers whipping around her—the moment Oppressor said “Fine. Storm her however you like, but make it quick.”

“You got it!” The man attacked his buckles, clutched her waist, and stabbed her with his dick. He was larger than the original four, and the pain of it made her suck in a sharp breath.

Stormlight came with it, streaming from the man’s pocket.

They didn’t notice, but Jasnah’s torn nipple began to reknit. She covered it with her hand, fondling and moaning. She let him fuck her, and his friend impale her throat, until his three other friends walked around her towards Shallan.

Jasnah began to inhale, but Oppressor spoke. “This one is the princess of Alethka.”

The other three halted. The dicks in her pussy and throat enlarged at the sound of her station. Oh Stormfather it felt good to be filled. The three came back to Jasnah and used whatever part of her body they could reach between the crowd. All her life she had too much attention on her. Now, she couldn’t get enough. The original four watched them rape her, and it only added to the Thrill. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like they’d noticed that her breasts had healed.

Then again, the new men were attacking her breasts with hands and teeth, and had already made her bleed again. They were far rougher—one forced his entire fist into her vagina forearm-deep; another stomped on “his Brightness’ ” safehand; one fucking her tits broke a few ribs and kept pounding; and those three were the gentle ones—but Jasnah let them ravage and rent her body until they’d filled her every hole with seed. She leaked from mouth, bottom, vagina, eyes, hands. Even her navel. Her cries sung them songs of pleasure as she reciprocated on their second round, making the original four jealous and horny enough for yet another go. Somehow, all nine men managed to find something of her to use. Armpits, thighs, the underside of her breasts, the soles of her feet, the gap between her big and small toes.

Jasnah lost count of her orgasms. Black and blue as she’d become, she moved with their countless rhythms, trembling and shaking, squealing and squirming—much to the men’s pleasure—tongue hanging from her mouth.

“I guess only a mature woman can handle a proper gangbang,” the new man said. He was currently shoving his dick beneath her eyelid like his friend had managed to do moments ago. She couldn’t see clearly through that eye anymore. His dick didn’t fit, so he settled with scraping his foreskin against her violet iris.

“She’s not that old,” Folds said defensively as he twisted and bent the toes he fucked. One, if not two, of those toes were broken, but that didn’t stop him.

“Come now,” Last Man said from deep within her anal cavity. “She’s basically that piece over there’s mother.”

Folds’ empty testacles pumped out an abysmal amount of ejaculate onto the upper arches of her feet. He massaged the fluids with surprising delicacy, and she smiled, enjoying the post-coital touch, rotating her ankles to guide him around.

“Okay fine,” he said. “She is kind of old.”

She was just beginning to like him! Bastard. She kicked him, getting semen all over his chin.

He scowled and punched her between the legs, then pinched her clit with his big hand and twisted. “Cunt!!”

Right there! Jasnah thought, eyes rolling back as she let out a high-pitched scream-moan that echoed in the alley.

And someone slashed her throat. “Party over,” Oppressor said.

A shame. She was just beginning to enjoy it. Jasnah sucked in a sea of Stormlight from the five new men. The Light immediately got to work mending her bones, flesh, and eye. And thanks to the men’s lustful groping, she could immediately soulcast them. They never saw it coming. In an instant, eight men went up into a glorious show of flames, yellows and reds that held their horny forms for a fleeting instant before vanishing into the wind.

The ninth man, Oppressor, tried to run but a bolt of lightning blew off his foot. He fell, and she rose—awkwardly, thighs numb and body in an otherwise internal and external state of disrepair. Naked, she strode over to Oppressor, and ripped open his shirt.

He scrambled back, but she soulcast his clothes to stone, trapping him.

“Brightness,” Oppressor said. “I’m sure we can work some—”

She slapped him.

Unlike the slaps she’d received while he fucked her mouth, her slap was enhanced by Stormlight. The swing broke her knuckles on impact, as well as his jaw. The sides of her vision began to redden and yet another irrational feeling rose within. A Thrill. The Thrill, perhaps. The Alethi edge. Many felt shame for experiencing it, but if it was triggered by justice like this, then it couldn’t be so bad. Then again, justice was subjective, and she’d do well to remember such things, especially on a night she’d failed so miserably in a philosophical demonstration.

As the Stormlight healed her hand, Oppressor stared at it, petrified, jaw askew. His eyes tracked up to her breasts, the nipple he’d torn. It was healed and gone soft, too, completely over the… session.

She pinched his nipples and twisted. The sides of her vision reddened again. “What did you say about a woman’s place?”

“Brightness, I’m sorr—”

Jasnah soulcast his nipples to stone. He screamed, but that was a purr compared to when she twisted them off. She sighed. Revenge was tiring. The Thrill dissipated and left her feeling empty, deflated. She dragged the screaming man to Shallan, then nonchalantly ended his misery by soulcasting him into water to wash herself and the girl with.

She dressed them as best she could in their torn clothes. Shallan struggled to even stand, so Jasnah slung the girl’s arm around her shoulder and helped her walk out of the alley. Shallan—hands buried in her crotch; wincing with each awkward step—began to make jokes about the ordeal as if Jasnah needed support.

Perhaps I do, she thought, glancing back at the alley. Just the sight of it gave her shivers… and made her womanhood yearn. The sight of Shallan squirming beside her wet her thighs even more. I’m the only one who learned lessons tonight.

As they walked, Jasnah pretended she needed her hand in her crotch to move, too. She stimulated herself all the way to the palace, where she made Shallan undress. She disinfected the girl’s wounds, and then gave her a sleeping tablet. When Shallan finally fell asleep Jasnah carried her to the bath and took a turn to piss all over the girl—

Shallan’s cut chest began to heal, reknit as if she could inhale Stormlight. Her eyes opened, and Jasnah scrambled off her, unable to stop urinating. But Shallan grabbed Jasnah’s buttocks and pulled her back, opening her mouth to the flood. Jasnah fell to her knees, and ended up sitting on Shallan’s face. The girl tongue flicked Jasnah’s clit, and the older woman came violently. Her urination turned into a gush, and the girl kept drinking as her tongue worked magic between Jasnah’s legs.

She moaned louder than before, all the while piecing together that Shallan must have been the reason why Jasnah’s soulcaster had no Stormlight earlier. The girl unknowingly sucked it all up in fright when the men had cornered them. Jasnah had not been wrong. She had missed a variable, but that was completely different from being wrong. The thought let her enjoy Shallan’s tongue—which seemed far too deft for a beginner—enough to cum harder than she ever had in her life. She collapsed atop the girl, panting. Shallan slipped out from under her, lifted her leg, and positioned between her thighs. A red bush of pubes pressed against black, and Shallan rode Jasnah till they were both screaming their pleasure in the bath house like two whores putting on a show.

The lack of dicks made it hard, so they collided into each other with heavy thrusts that hurt. Jasnah could feel it rising within again. She grabbed the little pale body before her, sat it up, and guided them to slide back and forth, bashing their pussies together—then shoved her tongue into Shallan’s mouth. Hot lips meshed, top and bottom. Down below, a grind began, a twisting and churning and pivoting of hips, an accelerating dance to get the perfect stroke of the clit. Up above, Jasnah turned Shallan’s head this way and that as her tongue explored the girl’s mouth. The reciprocation felt so good on the inside walls of her face, better than a dick, and with their heavy breaths and moans mixing, the rising torrent within was on the verge of detonation. The dance below ignited the fuse, erupting as Jasnah found the perfect clitoral stroke—a downward thrust of her hips when Shallan thrust up, at an angle which brought their bellies together, navels touching. Jasnah doubled down and Shallan doubled up when she realised. The soft of their stomachs smacked together with each shiver-inducing stroke until tremors wracked Jasnah’s body and she had to cling to Shallan to hold herself up.

Shallan pushed Jasnah onto her back and leaned onto her chest for leverage, then thrust her hips as if she had a dick between those legs. Her fingers clutched Jasnah’s larger breasts aggressively as if the girl had testosterone in her veins. Fuckspren appeared in hoards and ravaged them. Shallan rode Jasnah, throwing her head back and moaning so loud, argents rushed in and found them. But the girl didn’t stop. Not until she’d rocked out her own orgasm to the very end and collapsed, unconscious and panting on Jasnah’s bosom.

Jasnah stroked the peaceful girl’s hair. She’d been through so much tonight. Hopefully this would make it a memory more positive than otherwise.

“Well,” Jasnah said to the ardents, who stood hands to mouth. “You going to help me clean Brightness Shallan up and put her to bed? Or you just going to stand there?”

They quickly got hold of themselves and went about as if ordered to do any other task. When they deposited Shallan into her bed, Jasnah dismissed them and made for her room. Then turned around and slipped between Shallan’s sheets and cuddled up. The girl was so beautiful with that natural flush on pale skin, red hair framing it all like fine curtains.

Jasnah shook her head. What was she thinking?

But it was the first time she’d felt a connection with anyone, sexual as it may be. Perhaps… it could grow to be more.

The next day, Shallan stole Jasnah soulcaster. Jasnah always knew there was more to that girl’s wardship. She sighed and carried on. The replacement soulcaster didn’t work, but she’d get to the bottom of this more subtly, give Shallan a chance to own up and make up.

Not because Jasnah had feelings for her. The girl could have a bright future in scholarship. Love was a fool’s game, and, if anything, this proved it.

When they fucked that night, Jasnah was rougher with the girl than any of the men in that alley. That would teach her a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading. This one took a while to write, but I'm glad I did it. If you are glad too, please leave a kudos and tell me your favorite part in the comments! Cheers

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy a fanfic, please leave a comment and kudos. It will make the author's day, and make this all worth their time


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